My Cruel Salvation (Fallen Saint # 3) - J. Kenner Page 0,15

I already did that.”

I lick my lips. “I want more.”

“You want my mouth. My cock.”

“Yes.”

He traces a finger over my bare breast. “Rough?”

My pussy clenches and my mouth is dry. “Yes.”

He rolls my nipple between with two fingers, then tightens it to a hard pinch that I feel all the way to my clit. “Intense?”

I nod, my body arched and my breath ragged. “God, yes.”

“Greedy little thing, aren’t you?”

“With you, always.” Where Devlin is concerned I’m the greediest woman on the planet.

Without warning, he uses his grip on my nipple to pull me toward him. I cry out in surprise and from the hint of pain that only heightens the pleasure. My body is throbbing, my skin sizzling with electricity. I’m so turned on that I’m certain I’ll explode from even the slightest touch, then break apart all over again and again and again, tossed around on this sea of pleasure that the intense demand of his touch is pounding through me.

He bends forward, then teases my ear with the tip of his tongue. “You tell me rough. You tell me intense. But who says you get to ask for anything?”

I almost explode right then, even more when he senses my reaction and reaches down to cup my pussy. “No,” he says. “Your orgasm belongs to me, baby. You have to earn it.”

I swallow, then nod, lightheaded from this game we’re playing. Or maybe it’s not a game. Maybe it’s just us. I only know that Devlin rarely denies me, and the fact that he’s doing exactly that is so fucking erotic that I’m practically melting. There’s an unfamiliar edge to him. An intensity that seems reflected in those green eyes that that never belonged to Alex and in the scar that defines the powerful, dangerous man my teenage love grew into.

Dangerous.

The word bursts into my head, coloring my emotions. He’s the danger I’ve been courting all my life. The knife-edge I’ve sought on every fast turn, every random fuck. I’ve always known it, but I’m seeing it so clearly now. I’ve been chasing danger my whole life, not just because of my guilt for being alive, but because, dammit, I’ve been chasing him.

“Tell me,” he says. “Tell me what you’re thinking.”

“I want you,” I tell him, my voice raw. “I want what you are.”

“And what am I?”

I swallow. “A dangerous man.”

He barely reacts. Just the slightest widening of his eyes. I might not have noticed if I didn’t know him so well. But what I don’t know is if he expected that answer, or if I took him by surprise. All I know is the way my heart races when he wraps his large hand around both my wrists and pulls me close, the angle of my body odd enough to be painful.

I wince a bit, but he doesn’t release me. Instead, he whispers, “I’m incredibly dangerous. Does that turn you on?” His fingers slip between my thighs and he makes a low noise in his throat. “Oh, yeah, baby. It damn sure does.”

He shifts us, pushing me forward so that I have to work to untangle my arms in time to keep myself from falling forward. “On your elbows,” he says, and I put my arms down on the silk lining of his jacket as he kneels behind me, his hands cupping my ass. He bends over me, the material of his shirt and slacks brushing sensually over my bare skin.

He sweeps my hair aside, and his lips tease the back of my neck. He trails kisses down my spine, stopping at the indentation above my ass. He pulls back, then gently spreads my butt cheeks, and I whimper as he teases me with a fingertip pressed against that tight knot of muscles. “I’m going to fuck you here someday,” he says, the words sending sweet tremors through me simply from the promise. “Have you ever been?”

I shake my head. “No men.”

“No men?” he repeats, his voice rising with the question.

Ridiculously, I blush. “You know. Toys.”

He makes a rough noise in the back of his throat, then bends over me, the pressure of his finger against my ass increasing as he whispers, “Why?”

I repeat the word, not understanding the question.

“You must like it if you used toys. So why not men, when you and I both know there must have been scores who were willing? Most likely wanting.”

I wince a little at the reference to those years when I fucked for the thrill of walking that ledge, of